Chapter 71: Bonus Chapter 1: Mourn

Mason

TODAY WE WEAR BLACK as a sign of respect. To show that we are mourning the loss of someone we love. The tradition dates back to the ancient Romans, when mourners would adopt darker-colored togas to show that they were in mourning.

Now it's the traditional black suit and white shirt. Not to forget the black tie us men always loosen by the time we make it to the afters for coffee and stale ham and cheese sandwiches.

For some, planning a funeral can be something sudden and unexpected. But for me... well, I'd had some time to prepare for this. We all had. I looked to my right, at Penelope. I was prepared for what the day would bring. The question was… was she?

She was too young. I wanted to protect her from all the bad in her life... the pain... the loss. Like any father would do for their child. But I couldn’t protect her from everything. What was happening in her life was out of my control.

Three-year-olds have a lot of questions. “Why can’t I see her?” “Where has she gone?”

I had a lot of explaining to do.

“I choose this one.” Penelope said while handing me a hair clip. One with a red velvet bow. “I think she would like red.”

“I think you're right.” I pulled out a stool at the island and she sat up. I looked at her long brunette hair, and it reminded me of Jamie’s. It was moments like this that I longed for her mother the most.

I didn’t know anything about how girls liked to do their hair or what fashion was right for a three-year-old. Raising a daughter alone was more complicated than anything I had ever done; in comparison, the business was a walk in the park.

But Jamie... she would find this easy. It always came natural to her, being a mother, reading bedtime stories to Penelope, wiping away her tears when she was upset. Those things I could do too... but Jamie was better at it.

I moved a brush down Penelope's hair before sliding her hair clip into place. I'd been sliding hair clips into her hair for about a year, and that was the extent of what I could do when it came to hair styling. She wasn’t too impressed by that, of course.

“I think maybe you need to learn how to do it differently sometimes.” Penelope said. “Tie it up here—or—a braid like Katie’s mom does in her hair.”

I had seen this coming.

“I thought we were doing good with the hair clips.” I replied, hoping that she would agree. “They've been staying in a lot longer, haven’t they?”

She shrugged her small shoulders. “I don't know, Dad. It's okay to change your mind sometimes, I’m getting older now.” It was clear that she wasn't her usual hyperactive self today.

I shook my head, a smirk tugging on my lips. “Stop getting older.”

If only I could keep her as small as she was. The thought of Penelope in her teenage years, rebellious and interested in boys, kept me up at night. I hoped I would be luckier than that.

“Alright, are you ready?” I asked. Penelope nodded. I lifted her down from the stool and we left the house together.

The caterers were already arriving to set up for the funeral afterwards. Over a hundred people invading my space at once, what a fucking nightmare.

Penelope was quiet for the entire car ride to the church, as well as throughout the service and the burial. Perhaps she was too young to attend, but I couldn’t not bring her. It was important to have her there.

***

My home was covered in people wearing black, people looking at us with pity on their faces. Even if I had grown used to that look, I hated it.

I used to be a bachelor, the type of man that wasn’t afraid to say what was on his mind, the type of man no woman or man would dare cross.

Now they looked at me with pity.

I looked around the open-planned living space. Tall windows gave view of the garden, and the doors were wide open for guests to get some air. Caterers were serving up coffee and tea, as well as the best gourmet food.

Only the best for today.

Jacob walked my way, carrying Penelope in his arms. “Look who I found upstairs.” He smiled down at her. “I was on my way to the bathroom and I found this little lady playing in your bedroom.”

“What were you doing?” I asked Penelope. She shrugged her shoulders. Nothing good by the looks of it.

“Are you going to tell him or am I?” Jacob said with a smile. Penelope continued to give us the silent treatment. “She was going through Jamie's jewelry box. There wasn't a piece that she didn’t have on.” He chuckled. “By her reaction, I'm guessing she's not supposed to touch them.”

“No, she's not.”

“I don't know what you’re talking about, Uncle Jake.” Penelope replied.

“You remember what I said about touching your mom’s things. They're important and they can break easily.” It didn't surprise me that we were having this conversation again. Penelope liked to look at Jamie's jewelry and the clothes hanging in her wardrobe.

“I just wanted to be close to her.” She replied.

Jacob looked at Penelope. “I guess we can't argue with that.”

“Hmm.” I replied, unsatisfied.

“I should go check up on Melody. Do you want to come with me?” Jacob asked Penelope. She nodded excitedly. Today was one of those days not fit for a little kid; at least her uncle was still a kid on the inside.

I noticed Clay sitting on an armchair in the living area, looking lost amongst the crowd. He had an untouched plate of food on his lap. No appetite... me neither.

“Two coffees, milk and no sugar.” I said to the server.

I didn’t drink alcohol around Penelope, so coffee would have to do. After Jamie's accident, I went through a rough patch, and it took me a while to realize that I wasn't doing any good for my daughter, drowning my sorrows day in and day out. She needed me.

I walked towards the living area, towards the man that once hated me. “It looked like you could do with this.”

Clay looked up from the armchair as I handed him a white cup of coffee. “I didn't sleep last night. Is it that obvious?”

“I don't think any of us did.” I sat down in the armchair beside his and we both sipped our drinks. “It's been a long day. How are you holding up?”

“As good as I can be.” Clay exhaled. “I've had a long time to come to terms with losing her. I knew that it was going to happen eventually. Still, I can't imagine my life without her.”

“I understand.” I agreed. “The women in our lives are what make us good. We are nothing without them.”

Clay nodded, and I continued talking. “Cancer, it just eats away at a person until there's nothing left. She wanted me to end it for her a couple of weeks ago... she said the pain was too much and she hated that we were left with that image of her. I couldn’t do it.”

This wasn’t news to me. Julia had told me. We became close after the accident. I used to sit with her through chemo when Clay couldn’t.

“We still have hope for our Jamie,” Clay said. “It's going to be a shock to her when she wakes up and finds out her mother is gone.”

“If she wakes up,” I replied. “It's been two years.”

“I know my daughter, Mason. Jamie is going to wake up when she's good and ready.” He mustered a smile. I wondered whether the hope of his daughter waking from her coma was the only thing that kept him going.

I didn't have hope like he did. To me, I was losing Jamie, just like my father had lost my mother. Falling for someone and losing them was something that I feared, yet I fell for her. And here I was... just like him.

My phone rang in my pocket, and I pulled it out and looked at it. “Sorry, I have to take this,” I said. Clay nodded in understanding.

I left the living room and opened the door to the garage for some silence. I answered the call and put the phone against my ear. “It's not a good time, Patrick.”

“You're going to want to hear this, Mr. Knight.”

I sighed in frustration. “I'm at a funeral. Whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow.”

“I found him,” Patrick replied. Now he had my attention. My heart started to pound in my chest. I had been waiting to hear those words for a long time.

“Where?” I asked.

“At a motel in Toronto. He's been hiding out here for a couple of days, he's gotten himself into trouble with some big-time drug dealers. You need to come here, I’ll send you the address.”

I rubbed my forehead, trying to relieve the stress. Penelope was the first thing I thought about, leaving her at a time like this. She needed me. But I might not have another chance to face him... to make him pay for what he had done.

“Alright, I'll be there soon.” I hung up the phone and left the garage. The sound of people chatting aggravated me now.

As I approached Clay, I saw that Penelope was with him in the kitchen, sitting on the island countertop. “Is everything okay?” he asked, cleaning mud off Penelope’s hands.

“Fine,” I replied. Penelope's cream lace tights were covered in mud at the knees. “What happened here?”

“She fell while kicking around a football with her uncle Jake.” He chuckled. “I think he needed the distraction. But you're okay, aren't you P? It was nothing grandpa couldn’t fix.” He kissed her on the forehead, and she giggled.

Sometimes I wondered how Penelope would be affected, growing up without female figures in her life. No mother, siblings, grandmothers, aunts, or cousins.

“Can you watch her for a couple of days?” I asked. Clay gave me a strange look. “I know it's bad timing. I wouldn't ask if it wasn’t important.”

“Where are you going?” He asked curiously. I looked down at Penelope without replying. He seemed to understand that whatever I had to say, I couldn’t say it in front of her. “Penelope, why don't you go get a cookie from the buffet? I need to talk to your Dad.”

“B- but I already had a cookie, Grandpa,” she replied.

“It's okay, you can have another.” Clay lifted her down off the counter, and she ran towards the buffet table. “He found him, didn't he? The doctor?” His tone was hushed.

“He's in Toronto. Patrick wants me to move fast in case he gets away.” I sighed audibly. “It's been too long. I don't want to miss my chance. I need to confront him.”

“Go!” he said. “You need to go, you need to do this. I can stay here and take care of Penelope until you get back. I need the distraction right now.”

“Thank you.” I turned around to walk towards the buffet table. I knew Penelope wouldn’t be happy that I was leaving; she never was.

“Mason,” Clay called. I turned around to face him. “Whatever you do, don't get caught.”

I didn’t intend to.